


Don't you agree?

by Zoesiapie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fremione - Freeform, Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione Granger is So Done, Love, Made For Each Other, Valentine's Day, fred weasley - Freeform, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoesiapie/pseuds/Zoesiapie
Summary: "I'm trying to figure out if I like this new evil streak of yours or not." He hurries to answer and Hermione shakes her head in disappointment: can't he just leave her alone? He always has to find a way to pull the conversation along and drive it to the point of exasperation."Chocolates with laxatives, how can you like that?""You're speaking my love language, Hermione." Fred's hand reaches out to set her shirt collar, folded under her gray sweater, and he takes the opportunity to touch the skin of her neck with his knuckles. He barely touches it, but he can sense a change in the young woman's face, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in love with me.""You don't know me well,"
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Kudos: 45





	Don't you agree?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Non sei d'accordo?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/760749) by Sia_. 



Light suddenly pours in through the window and brightens the left side of her face, forcing her to wake up abruptly. She curses the mornings and curses Lavender, who woke up in a good mood and pulled the curtains in the room. She hides her face under her pillow and turns her back to the bed, externalizing her disappointment at all the noise. Could it be that her classmates are only interested in things like this... _like this?_ Hermione curses even herself and rubs her forehead against the mattress in an attempt to chase away the insistent thoughts. 

"Aren't you going to get up, _dear_?" Lavender leans against the canopy pillar as she continues to curl her hair with her wand, "It's a special day, you must prepare." 

The witch, still hiding under the heavy comforter, finds the strength to resurface and squints her eyes, "It's Saturday and it's half past six." 

"It's the fourteenth of February, Hermione _dear_." The prefect doesn't fail to raise an outraged eyebrow: it's always a bad day when the roommate gets to call her that epithet twice in the space of a few minutes. 

"And it's Saturday and on Saturdays normal people sleep at this time." 

"Actually, I didn't expect you to understand the urgency." 

Hermione sits up, resting her back against the headboard, "What do you mean?" 

" _It's Valentine's Day._ " Lavender blurts out, a sudden movement of his hand is the sign of yet another new ringlet on that blonde head. Hermione watches as it falls back over her shoulders and joins the previous ones, creating a volume that becomes all too annoying in her eyes. She bites her bottom lip, clearly suggesting that she still doesn't understand all that early morning need for movement. "You give chocolate, you make love confessions to the guy you're in love with, and then there are kisses and... "

"Please, spare me the rest," she tells her, running a hand over her face and pushing the covers away. 

"Come on, Hermione, you're going to have to think about these things too: we all followed your adventures with Krum last year with interest." 

"Last year, indeed," she is quick to set the record straight, moving past Lavender and opening the trunk at the end of her bed, "I would have liked to have slept _today_." 

"I understand that the Bulgarian stole your heart, but keep it up and you'll end up a spinster your whole life." 

Hermione closes her eyes, chasing down the urge to ash her precious ringlets: she highly doubts that her life choices about a silly love fest at that age will affect her future relationships, so much so that the urge to throw herself back under the covers increases considerably. She chases that away too, retrieving her tie from the nightstand and slinking off to the bathroom without deigning to respond to that provocation. You have to be a _special_ person to believe in such nonsense, Hermione thinks, as she looks at herself in the mirror and her eye inevitably falls on the curls that don't have any of that mixture Lavender has in her head in the other room. 

She cares little, _very little_. 

It's a shy thought that touches her mind and then runs away, like that morning sun that has already been covered by a mountain of clouds. Time to go down to breakfast, it has already started to rain and the humidity, Hermione observes satisfied, ruins Lavender's precious buds. It would ruin her curls too, if they weren't gathered in an untidy bun on her head. She's a little ashamed, because there doesn't seem to be a single girl in the Great Hall who didn't take care to look pretty that day: as if people could forget a face overnight. For example, Brown doesn't look any different than she did yesterday, even with that little bit of make-up on. 

When her gaze falls on the large doorway, looking for Harry and Ron, and she notices the twins' arrival, she quickly picks up the Daily Prophet, displaying no small amount of disinterest. 

"It's Saturday morning." One of them points out to her, taking a seat on her side, while the other leaves her no escape and surrounds her on the opposite side. 

"And Hermione Granger is strangely early on her weekend schedule, isn't someone eager to see its sweetheart?" 

She knew that being called dear by Lavender twice would have its effect. 

"Confessing one's love to Prince Charming." 

"Dancing in the rain with one's soul mate." 

"Giving handmade chocolate and... "

Hermione rolls her eyes, sharply cutting off the two's meaningful talk, "I thought I'd give you some, Fred." 

"What about me?" George is indignant, his twin waving him off with a wave of his hand and flashing a wide grin on his face in clear and well-deserved victory. 

"Angelina wouldn't like to spend Valentine's Day alone while her boyfriend is locked in the bathroom because of laxative-filled chocolates, or would she?" 

"Certainly not, Hermione," agrees the twin in question, nodding his head.

The witch at this point turns to that Fred, who has propped his elbow on the table and his head in the palm of his hand, "What is it?" she asks him gently, trying to hold back a smile in response to the grimace that is printed on the young man's face. 

"I'm trying to figure out if I like this new evil streak of yours or not." He hurries to answer and Hermione shakes her head in disappointment: can't he just leave her alone? He always has to find a way to pull the conversation along and drive it to the point of exasperation. 

"Chocolates with laxatives, how can you like that?" 

"You're speaking my love language, Hermione." Fred's hand reaches out to set her shirt collar, folded under her gray sweater, and he takes the opportunity to touch the skin of her neck with his knuckles. He barely touches it, but he can sense a change in the young woman's face, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in love with me." 

"You don't know me well," she replies abruptly, lying through her teeth: if anyone understands her, sitting at that table at that moment, and who can tell people about her, it's the twin. 

Fred tilts his head and raises the corner of his lips.

"Your little knowledge doesn't... _I'm not in love with you, Fred_." 

"All right." The twin sits up straighter on the bench, moving her, too, who may be jolted by George's endless laughter, now holding her stomach in pain. Awesome. 

"Don't say all right like you don't believe it, it's unnerving." 

"Don't say you're not in love with me like you mean it, it's exhausting to keep up." 

Hermione mouthes for a few seconds, then raises the index finger of her right hand, "I do mean it."

"Alright." Fred shrugs, shaking his head.

"All right." The young woman repeats, casting her gaze back into the Prophet's Gazette, feeling a sense of levity when she hears that George is leaving them to go retrieve a seat next to Angelina. 

Now that she thinks about it, Fred is one of those people who is beautiful even yesterday and is today and will be tomorrow: he always has this air of life about him that makes him more resplendent than those who fill the rest of the Great Hall. It matters little to her that he is so much like George and that George is only a few feet away; Fred is special, not as special as people who believe the lovey-dovey nonsense of any party, but special in his own way, which is all a special way of being special. Hermione clutches the paper in her hands, hallucinated by her own _terrible_ thought. 

"You're early anyway." The twin wakes her up from the avalanche of impure thoughts that filled her brain in a matter of seconds, suggesting that perhaps, _subconsciously_ , she is in love with Fred. 

"Excuse me?" She pretends not to have heard and doesn't take her eyes off the paper: if she looked at it now, it would be like finding confirmation of those fears, it would be discovering herself in love for the first time and then it would be running away from the anxiety and fear. And then it would be sinking into a sea of anguish, because of all people she ended up having Fred in her heart: so different, so full of energy, of life. So adventurous, that when he adjusts the collar of her sweater - as if that were normal in itself - he brushes her skin with his knuckles and teleports her to another world. Evidently, it's not enough to have discovered the existence of Hogwarts a few years ago. 

"Saturdays are your day off, and instead you're here early in the morning drowning your torments in a sad cup of lukewarm tea and snout in a newspaper you're not reading." He points out to her, a hint of irony coloring his voice, and Hermione has to suppress the instinct to smile. She shouldn't smile so easily at Fred Weasley, he would realize all too soon that she lied before. In her defense, she lied without knowing she was lying: she truly believed she wasn't in love with him. As she believed it that morning, rubbing her forehead with the mattress and praying to Merlin to incinerate Lavender Brown and his haste. In the bed she calmed herself for feelings she didn't have: she should have taken it as a sign, for if you wake up thinking about someone there must be a reason and that reason now grips her heart and her heart laughs in her chest at the witch's stupidity. How could she have missed it before? 

The signs were there, as clear as the stars in the St. Lawrence sky: her cheeks on fire, the disconnected words, the embarrassed whispers, her foot slamming on the ground not out of anger, but out of annoyance at... That she can't admit even to herself. 

"I was awakened abruptly," she explains, "apparently it's Valentine's Day today and Lavender is especially happy." 

Fred laughs, "Now I understand your Dementor mood."

Hermione closes the paper and sets it down on the bench, right where George was sitting before and brings the cup of tea closer to her lips, taking her time to come up with an answer. She sips it slowly, slower than she usually would and looks up at her twin, who doesn't stop looking at her for a single second. He's bitten into a cupcake and follows the speed of her movements to chew it. _Awesome_. She observes his jaw, the hollow of his neck, and goes down just true to his collarbone, before this is finally hidden by the uniform. 

"There's food on this table, you should stop eating me with your eyes, Hermione."

The witch coughs, taken aback and sets her cup down on the saucer, "I'm not eating you with my eyes." She hastens to point out, blushing on her cheeks. 

To say she's eating him with her eyes would probably be reductive. It would be more appropriate to say she's devouring him and not even thinking twice about chewing properly. 

"Alright." 

"You need to stop saying that." 

"I have to stop saying alright?" 

Hermione gives him an eloquent look, as if to ask him to stop. Doesn't he notice that as he says it, his tongue rests on his lips for a moment and his adam's apple puts on a play a few feet below? _Evidently not_. Maybe the twin should stop talking in general, or he should stop existing: even standing still, he lights up something in her that she couldn't explain even with a paper eight scrolls long. 

"Yeah, you need to stop." 

"All right, I'll stop." 

The witch takes a long breath, "You don't know how much I want to crash you into a wall." 

Fred laughs again, wiping the crumbs from the cupcake off his hands, "Probably a lot, I just have to try and figure out if it's the same one you always have or if I've raised my personal best." 

Hermione smiles, no longer able to contain herself, "You think about it, then let me know what you decide." 

"You're leaving?" 

"To the Library." She assumes Fred wants to know, and likewise limits their chance of seeing each other again for the rest of the morning. He's not going to follow her there, too; he's not crazy enough to decide to die of boredom. The twin pins down that move and rolls his eyes: he knows Hermione needs her space and that playing that game for too long puts her on edge, but he's always a little hurt when they have to part ways. 

"I'll see you later, then." 

It's not a question, of course. It's the twin's turn to set the record straight - she should mark it somewhere, that Fred is leaving her messages with meaning.

"Alright."

￦

She avoids him in every way, Hermione. 

She even embarks on a fitful conversation with Lavender Brown as long as she isn't chosen as Fred's sacrificial victim roaming the Common Room that Saturday. She avoids him for a countless number of reasons, and on top of that pile are her glaring feelings. She's in love. Merlin, she's in love with the twin. 

_Don't panic_ , she imposes herself for the eighth time that day. She soon realizes that imposing control on herself, as a girl in her grade approaches Fred and shakily leaves a package of chocolates in his hands, is not for her. She taps her foot on the ground at the exact second that a mischievous grimace capitulates on her twin's face. _Don't panic_. 

"Hermione _dear_ , I have a date with a Hufflepuff senior soon, don't you find that exciting?" 

"Your curls have made an impression." 

Lavender smiles beaming, running a hand through her hair to flaunt that fact, "If you had done them too, you'd be in my exact position right now." 

"We're both sitting, in case you haven't noticed." Hermione wonders for a second where Harry and Ron got lost after lunch, forcing her to succumb under the weight of her roommate's shenanigans. As if having her in front of her eyes when she wakes up wasn't enough. 

"Silly girl, I meant you'd have a date too." 

The idea of ashing her hair comes back into focus in her mind and her hand actually moves to the wand in her pocket, but it doesn't quite reach the wood because someone stops her arm. It's Fred, who's leaned back in his chair and is mitigating an amused smile, "I've been looking for you." he merely whispers, casting an eloquent glance at Lavender who blushes on her cheeks. 

_Great_ : now she also has to thank him for saving her from a murder and a few years in Azkaban. "I've been waiting for you," she replies, tilting her head at him and getting up from her chair. Fred stops an arm behind her back, greeting the other girl with a sudden movement of his fingers. 

They exit the Common Room quickly, just long enough to wish Lavender a great date, and disappear quickly behind the Fat Lady's painting, "Thanks for the rescue." 

"I was really looking for you." 

_Oh_. Hermione represses the urge to melt into that exact spot in the hallway, well aware that Fred's body is still so close to hers. "Thanks for the timing, then." 

The twin smiles at her and it's inevitable that she ends up leaning her head against his shoulder. Screw the looks from the others, he's the one who put them in that compromising situation: he picked her up in front of Lavender Brown, for Merlin, in a few hours the whole school will know. And then it'll know that there's actually nothing to know. 

"Don't you want to know why I came to find you?" 

"To get away from yet another girl giving you chocolate?" 

Fred's arm let go of her as he laughed softly, "No, but I was bored and oddly enough you're the least boring thing that fills my days lately." 

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?" 

"That's the idea, but you can do a little whatever you want." Fred wedges himself into a small secret passage behind a dusty tapestry and offers her hand to follow him. Hermione erases the urge to run away and interlocks her fingers with her twin's, soon disappearing behind the heavy fabric. They turn on their wands to make themselves light and climb the narrow steps in front of them: she holds on tightly, a little afraid of slipping down and hurting herself, a little afraid that Fred will decide to let her go. 

"Where are we going?" 

"It's a surprise," Fred's whisper rumbles through that burrow and goes deep inside her, warming her heart. A surprise, for her, with her. Now she understands why so much of it is impossible to wake up in the morning and try to convince herself that she's not in love with him, if every now and then he picks up and does this. 

"The last time you wanted to surprise me, you colored my hair for three weeks." 

The twin stops on the stairs and flattens against the wall to let her walk past him, "You were surprised though." 

Hermione turns to look at him, he's a few inches away and thinks after all it's not worth continuing upstairs if she can kiss him there and get to forget her name, " _No doubt_." 

Fred bites his gum to keep from laughing and quickly follows her, keeping a hand on her back to reassure her. 

"So should I prepare to be surprised like I was that time or have you decided to... " she finishes speaking when she finds herself in a small room, a huge window opens to the school lawn and it's easy to glimpse a large part of Black Lake as well. "You found it." 

"I hadn't forgotten, I know you were still going crazy trying to figure out where this place was because it was impossible to get there from the outside." She must have told him this last year, when they bumped into each other outside the walls and went for a walk together; one of the first times, soon followed by hundreds more. 

"I don't like your obvious irony." 

"Are you sure?" 

Hermione leans against the windowsill, turning her head towards her twin who has his hands crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised, "Maybe I like it a little." 

Fred approaches in slow steps, in turn touching the sill with one hand and trapping it against the wall, "Is there any way to make it certain?" The rain begins to wet both of their fingers, but they don't move and remain studying each other a few seconds too long. Hermione's eyes go back to doing what they did at breakfast, but in reverse and up from her collarbone to settle a little on her damp lips and find her twin's gaze shining with an amused light. She nods, standing up on her toes and taking a push against the wall to better reach Fred's mouth. He'll hold it against him for as long as they live, that she was the one who kissed him first, but she doesn't care when the twin's taste is so intense and she doesn't care when Fred's hand finally moves from the stone to go back behind her back and squeeze her. It will matter to her later, when he pokes her in the pride and colors her cheeks in the Common Room in the middle of the night, it will matter to her when rumors start circulating around the school and she has no way to keep them in check. 

_Fred is kissing her._

Nothing makes sense and nothing matters when Fred's lips study the composition of hers and discover they're meant to hold together. The witch's fingers go to lose themselves in the twin's reddish hair, encouraging him to ask for more from that contact. 

"Are you in a hurry?" he asks her amused, hiding that question in a quick kiss. "Do you have anything else to do later?"

"Might be." 

"I was hoping to book you until tonight, how naive of me." 

Hermione shakes her head, "If you care so much, I may as well put off the rest of the things I had to do until tomorrow."

"You're free again tonight, then?" Fred pulled her tighter into his arms, resting his forehead against the young woman's, who laughed and didn't wait for an answer to steal her lips once more.

"Tomorrow at breakfast, too, actually."

"A considerable amount of time for someone who isn't even in love with me and wants to foist chocolates full of laxative on me, _wouldn't you agree?_ " 


End file.
